


Hero Ending

by AlphaKantSpell



Series: The Incomplete Guide to Drawf/Elf Relations [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Death, F/M, and there's also sex, hero ending, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had he known what slaying the archedemon meant he would have bound her to the bed. Had he known he would have broken her legs and carried the heavy dwarf all the way to the Anderfels. Had he known what such a thing demanded of her he wouldn't have laughed and clapped her on the back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero Ending

"Something wrong, _mi amora_?" Zevran asked, his hands weaving into her gauntleted ones. The answer was obvious but he meant it as a broach into what troubled his Warden. Ninette Aeducan pried like a locksmith into the personal lives of everyone she met. When questioned herself the dwarf's responses were far and in-between.  Like the rock she was born from, Ninette responded in silence. When the Warden did speak, a life of glory, betrayal, and hardship guided her wise tongue.

For the moment Zevran wanted nothing more than to guide said tongue. Alas, his beauty's frown was sourer than Sten's, qunari in question scowling as per usual at the pair. Some poor souls just didn't understand physical affection.

"Come, you can tell me. I promise I won't gossip." Ninette quirked a brow at him and Zevran shrugged playfully. "Maybe a little gossip but I exaggerate only to make you all the more magnificent. Not that you're not already – and beautiful – but our adventures are already so ridiculous that we must exaggerate if anyone is to believe them. Does that make sense?"

She laughed, a sound not as boisterous as even hours before when they first arrived at Redcliff. Something dragged her commanding will and bound it to a dirty spot on the floor. Zevran racked his mind for what upset his Warden so greatly. Then the unthinkable happened. Ninette grabbed the Antivan by his shirt and pulled him into a kiss that was all tongue and what he could only label as guilt. Now, normally Zevran would jump at an opportunity to ravish his pet with kisses but Ninette herself ordered his patience while in public. At first he thought she was shamed by loving a whore's son but Zevran came to realize the dwarf was simply a private and spoiled woman. She didn't want to share her play-thing, habit a princess could never quite shuck. Ninette was giving in everything else so Zevran let her be selfish in this one thing. It was the least he could do after all she gave to himself and the rest of Ferrelden.

Now the dwarf grafted Zevran to her lips in a desperate display in front of the whole party and Arel Emon's staff. It was wonderful but tragic. Nothing unsettled Zevran more than this public declaration and what it meant for their upcoming war.

"W-what's wrong?" Zevran asked between stolen breaths.

"Warden stuff, nothing to worry about. I love you," she answered in a single strand. Zevran didn't know whether to coil at _warden stuff_ or _love_ and was going to demand she elaborate but his clever dwarf was just the right height to press herself against his control-rod. His mind blanketed against the hard sensation of cold plate armor against his more intimate area (clothed through it was) and quickly forgot why he was so troubled.

His Warden was open and giving, exposing herself to catcalls from the team. Long suppressed exhibitionalist tendencies rose in him as Zevran gleefully pawed at her armored hide, fingertips probing between the scales for softer fabrics to squeeze. Skin contact became molten hot and Zevran would have started stripping if Ninette hadn't tugged him to her room. Chuckling, he picked her up, arms protesting both the density of her armor and dawrven bones. Zevran ignored the pain, instead focusing on sucking kisses to her neck and face. Gauntleted fingertips combed into his hair, pointed metal pinched the sensitive skin at his ears. Zevran gasped into her neck and leaned against a wall to steady himself. Ninette started to nip at his ear.

"Don't get the wrong idea, I love your lips, but if we linger much longer I may have to ravish you here," he panted, trying to distance himself from Ninette's lavishing kisses but only nuzzled closer so she had better access to his appendages. As excepted she tweaked his ear between her lips, teeth pulling at the skin. Zevran lost himself in a hungry rasp, dropped his partner and bucked against her in an impatient tempo. She laughed a little better than before but he resented that it came at his expense.

"Damn armor," he snarled. Of a world with lightly dressed magi and leather clad rogues he had to fall for a warrior. Plate took an eternity to undress and ruined intimate moments with turtle shell covering. He needed to touch skin, _now_. Ninette led Zevran the rest of the way to her room, chuckling at his moody pout.

"I'll make it up to you," she encouraged, giving his haunches a light smack into the room.

In days to come he would understand her actions, why she game him every pleasure, every kiss, every caress he ever desired. Nintette was patient as always, painfully so that night. She knew when to listen to his begs and when to hold off for his towering pleasure. She tore his carefully constructed persona to shambles and rebuilt him with a love and devotion so foreign he wept from its contact.

"Shh," she cooed against his ear, her weight firm and grounding against his chest like a trusty paperweight. Zevran thanked the Maker she was dwarven - any other race and he'd surely float away. In appreciation he clawed dull fingers into her back, struggling for the first time in his life to express what he wanted (aside from the earring incident, he supposed Ninette just had that affect on him). Lightheaded by lust and some bizarre emotion that struck him whenever around Ninette, Zevran hardly recognized himself. His mussels coiled so tight they could be plucked like a harp – he almost wanted that if it'd release this masochistic pressure.

"I love you Zevren," she promised, voice molten against his ear. It was a slow, sensual torture to his oversensitive soul. The Antivian shivered with delirium. "I love you more than the whole of Ferrelden, Ozramar included."

"Enough to run away with me to Antiva?" he gasped out. Ninette kissed at his throat, bare stubbly fingers pinching parts of his body that made him buck and moan without regard. If the castle staff blushed at him the next morning, Zevran didn't care.

"I would love nothing more than to open a leather working shop with you."

Her purrs wove a shaky grin to his kiss stung lips. Zevran flipped their positions, eager to repay any of the infinite love his Warden gave.

"Maybe have a child or two. I have no idea what they would look like but if they inherited your good looks they'd be sure to be stunning."

Later he would notice her past tense, even in planning for the future. That would be weeks down the road, when he pooled his every thought into reliving the hours before leaving for war. At the time all he heard was that he was loved and his woman wanted babies. Well, he had the equipment for that. Zevran didn't know the first thing about being a father, having nothing to compare it to. None of that mattered, not when Ninette was so unbelievably soft for a person supposedly bred from stone.

With a grin so blissful it had to be forged of sin, Zevran pounced in pleasure saturated abandon. The pair raced and peaked into ecstasy so many times Zevran was sure he'd feel phantom caresses for years. His world blurred with passion and when the couple rose early next morn, they discovered themselves huddled to a wall with blankets tangled amongst their limbs. Zevran laughed hot against Ninette's chest and swathed a blanket over them both in a warm cocoon. Darkspawn could wait, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into her heart and fuse with the love she so freely gave.

Arl Emon was not so generous. His knock was as insistent as the darkspawn horde itself. They were to leave and soon; the army required her command.

"Then wait for it, I will be down soon," Ninette barked from the safety of Zevran's embrace.

It took longer than usual to dress. First they washed with water a maid left by the door. Zevran massaged his love's skin as he washed the mess of their union. As usual Ninette needed help getting her armor on and the Warden took the time to bind her hair into a complex braid (another throwback to years as a princess).

Just as Zevran made for the door, Ninette pulled him back down for another slow, somber kiss. All the same love and attention was there but the emotion was all wrong. The kiss was sad, what for Zevran couldn't guess aside from worry about their mounting war.

"I will slay the archedemon for you," Ninette whispered like she was trying to keep it a secret from the Maker himself. "I will end this Blight for you. You'll work with leather. You'll make gloves and boots and anything else that imagination of yours can desire."

Had he known what slaying the archedemon meant he would have bound her to the bed. Had he known he would have broken her legs and carried the heavy dwarf all the way to the Anderfels. Had he known what such a thing demanded of her he wouldn't have laughed and clapped her on the back.

"Yes, of course. My Warden, the fierce dragon layer! The archedemon will tremble at your presence." An _'I love you'_ fought to fly from his chest but as usual it was stuck at his cottony tongue. Zevran was unused to love and uncomfortable around the word.

After the battle, he decided and would later regret. Zevran fantasized about his plan the whole trek to Denerim. Ninette would fall into his arms and he would shout from the highest tower that he adored the dwarf. If any objected he's toss a knife down from the strategic height. They would marry, perhaps, in good time, maybe open a traveling leather shop to stay ahead of the Crows.

It wasn't until the archedemon lay crippled atop Fort Drakon that Zevran learned he'd been fooled. The troops skirmished with the remaining darkspawn, frantic as ants after running a finger through their scent marked trail, blind and confused. A bone shaking moan from the archedemon swallowed most of Alisair and Ninette's conversation. Enveloped by chaos of war the pair of Wardens spoke with a calm at the very center, the eye of the storm.

"You've saved my life countless times. Let me save yours this once," Alistair pleaded. Ninette wore her helm so Zevran missed her expression. Her voice was cool though. No matter how subtle her tone got Ninette had always been a fiercely passionate dwarf. Her cold reply haunted Zevran's dreams, a ghost of the ardor she once showered him with.

"I can't let you."

Before Alistair could object, before Zevran could demand she explain herself, Ninette Aeducan charged the rising archedemon.

"No don't!" Alistair wailed. He tore off his helm, features gaunt by deviation.

Zevran removed his own helm and watched with nervous pride as Ninette slew the demon's belly like its scales were naught but thick sludge. Without looking, without hesitating she plunged her sword into the demon's skull in a resounding crack. Both Warden and demon howled as a light with a physical presence pushed the army aside. Darkspawn retreated without their head. Some leapt from the tower squealing.

Wynne reached for Zevran and Alistair, the Warden now balling with furious tears.

"That bitch," he wept as the trio cowered for a shelter on the now shaking roof. Purple light so vibrant it bled white enveloped the trio. The tower shuddered and the demon shirked at such a high pitch Zevran felt it in his blood.

The Antivian didn't understand – or didn't want to. Wynne cast a shield spell around their huddle but it was pitiable against the twisting onslaught of power. Mercifully, the trio never felt the explosion that came next, only being woken by the army later. Zevran was told it had been a sight seen all the way to the Circle of Magi.

"Wait, Zevran!" Alistair called as the Antivian sprang and sprinted for Ninette. He slipped from Alistair's grip and dodged around the army to her side.

What he saw was not the proud last stand of a hero but the broken and very real tragedy of death. She collapsed by the bleeding maw; her tiny body could have been plaque between its teeth. No blood flowered from her corpse aside from the spattering of black tar from the darkspawn. Her body wasn't even mangled by the power burst, just frozen in an awkward position her arms wouldn't allow had she been alive.

Zevran scooped her ruined body into his arms, her limbs swaying like an un-tethered puppet. What had been planned as a love balled scratched free as a chocked sob. He removed her helm and brushed his lips against her still warm, still bleeding ones. Half of him expected her to squirm back to life like in Orlesian fairytales. The surrounding army shifted in awkward confusion. A Blight had been ended but their leader felled with the same stoke. No one moved or spoke but the frantic Antivian.

"Wynne," he called, eyes still blurred by the explosion and now tears. "Wynne please."

She didn't answer. For all her wisdom and generosity the old woman couldn't offer more than her quibbling tears. Zevran held tighter to Ninette's quickly cooling body.

Damn it - why didn't the armor keep her warmth in? What good was all this plate if it didn't keep her alive?

"The spirit! What about your spirit?"

"I can't. She's gone." He clutched her head, worried if she heard she truly would be.

"So were you!" he howled back.

Wynne hid her face with both hands and gracelessly clattered to the ground. "It won't work like that."

"How do you know without trying?"

"Because the spirit and I are one. I cannot remove it from myself and give it away.  I am sorry, I truly am but unless you want her risen as an abomination, she's gone."

Zevran refused to listen. He returned his whole focus on Ninette, stroking her cheeks, kissing her again. Maybe the Maker would take pity on this one brave soul and return her. She sacrificed so much, surely he'd repay that. Certainly if he proved how much he loved her.

He pleaded and begged and wept for her soul back but his Warden remained as still as stone.

"Just to see her eyes once more, Maker please."

Not until the rest of the party rose to the tower and pried him away did Zevran understand his loss. Ninette, his soul existence for life a thousand times over was dead. Rejected and worthless to all others, she alone showed him mercy, she alone gave him authentic love, and without her he stood alone. An overwhelming need to pitch himself off the tower like the darkspawn before him rocked Zevran. With a snarled he broke from Leliana's arms and bolted for the side.

He ran deaf to the shouts of his team but stopped before the edge, Ninette's prediction for his future as real to him as the morning she said it.

_'I will slay the archedemon for you. I will end this Blight for you. You'll work with leather. You'll make gloves and boots and anything else that imagination of yours can desire.'_

Zevran stepped away from the edge, again saved by his Warden. He allowed Leliana to take him away from the edge and remained quiet for the rest of the day. Zevran didn't pay any mind to what he did over the next few days but on the eve of Ninette's funeral, he allowed himself to weep.

Most of the night was spent in a fit of rage, shouting in anger at the woman who spared him, saved him, dreamed of a life after the war, then left to die. He would have shouted at Alistair if the new King hadn't already looked so miserable with the death of his Sister in arms. Alistair had been prepared to sacrifice himself but Ninette was such a self righteous warrior she pounced on the opportunity to save everyone. She was the woman who helped elect a brother who had dragged her name through the mud because he was better suited to care for their people. She was the woman who recovered Andraste's Ashes after humiliating trials. She was the woman who picked up strays and made them Heroes of Ferelden. Ninette was the woman who Zevran loved and never told.

Ninette was buried with the earring Zevran gave her. He hoped that would be enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In my first Play-Through, I went for the Hero Ending and although my Warden finally got the Warrior's death she'd been looking for since being exiled, it left Zevran broken. I wanted to write something that captured his confusion and heartbreak. 
> 
> There are plans for more Zevran/Aeducan stories, this is just one scenario.


End file.
